Dreams
by PsychologyGeek81
Summary: Juliette finds Warner awake as the result of a bad dream.


**authors note: So I was very busy over xmas and new years and so forgot to post, so I'm posting quite a few now. This is one of my personal favourites. Enjoy.**

My eyes blur into focus, blinking slowly. I start to try and make sense of my surroundings as my consciousness begins to come back to me. Its dark, presumably the middle of the night. There are whispers of moonlight trying to break through the windows but the heavy block of the curtains won't let them come in, so I'm left with barely a shimmer of light to see with, not that it does much good. My hair is hanging in my face as I roll over, attempting to figure out what woke me. I groggily lift one arm to push the thin curtain away from my face before I realise what it was that roused me. The side of the bed I'm half lying on, which is usually occupied by another person, is cold. It takes a second to register before I'm sitting myself up, squinting in the darkness to try and look for Warner. Although I need look no further than right in front of my face, because once I become accustomed to the darkness and shadows that swirl their way around the room I see him, sat on the edge of the bed staring down at his lap.

"Aaron," I say, my voice barely a whisper. It takes a second for the words to reach his ears, but when they do he turns his head to look at me.

"Juliette," he answers, sounding almost shaky, like he can't quite believe I'm here. I make a faint humming noise in response, mildly surprised when his head turns back towards his lap. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry if I did."

"No, you didn't. It's fine," I assure him, growing increasingly worried by the tone of his voice. He's uncharacteristically quiet, and his voice sounds unstable, vulnerable like a frail twig about to snap. I shift on my knees, noticing the way his eyes are fixed to the floor, his head hanging. A gentle sigh finds its way past my lips. Something is wrong.

"Okay," He barely whispers in response. I slide over to the edge of the bed, perching myself beside him. He still doesn't look at me. I reach out and gently place a hand on his shoulder, which startles him slightly, before he slowly relaxes into my touch. Only then does he drag his head up and look at me, his eyes are wide, his brow creased and his body is rocking slightly, or shaking.

"Aaron, what's wrong?" I murmur beside his ear. He shakes his head.

"Nothing. You should go back to sleep," He replies, although surely he must know that I won't believe him.

"No. What is it?" I continue, squeezing his shoulder in hope of reassurance. He lets a sigh fall from his mouth before taking a long pause, moving his eyes away from mine before slowly bringing them back.

"It was nothing, just a bad dream," He dismisses, but his voice betrays him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask slowly, softening my gaze. Another head shake.

"I'll be fine, love," He whispers in response.

"Are you sure? You know that you can tell me anything," I implore, giving his shoulder another squeeze.

"Yes," He answers, and I know that's my cue to give him a little space. I sigh, hoping that he will talk to me about it eventually, but for now there is nothing I can do.

"At least come and lie down," I finish, knowing not to push him anymore. He nods.

I remove my hand from his shoulder and move back over to my side of the bed, falling against the still warm pillow. Warner slowly follows suit, climbing back into bed and inching towards me. I extend my arm, preparing to wrap it around him once he lies down. He curls into my side, his head falling against my shoulder, nuzzling into my neck as he makes himself comfortable. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, running my fingers through soft strands of his hair. His arm drapes over my torso, balling the fabric of my camisole in his fist as he anchors himself to me, twining our legs together. I can feel his breath against my neck, quick and uneven, and his body still feels like its shaking. The nightmare was probably much worse that he would be willing to admit, but I can't push him. I can only try to calm him, and hope that if he wants to talk about it then he will.

After a few seconds of silence were swallowed up by the darkness of the room, Warner finally spoke.

"It was _him,_ " The faintest noise, the slightest whisper. And those three words cause my heart to break, to shatter into dust inside of my chest so fast that I wonder if he can hear it. His voice sounds so fragile that my chest feels like it's collapsed and has taken my happiness with it, making my blood run cold and anger start to stir inside my stomach. My breath died on my lips, twisted into a quiet mixture of a choke and a gasp. I hold him tighter, pulling him as close to me as possible and pressing my lips to his forehead.

"It's okay," I soothe, stroking his hair and running my other hand gently across his arm. "It's okay, it wasn't real. He wasn't real and he will never be able to hurt you again." I murmur, trying to calm him down whilst covering his forehead and hairline with gentle kisses, cautious not to let my growing rage at a man who no longer exists spill into my words. The anger was no longer simmering, it was boiling, burning like lit fuel in my chest because there was so little I could do right now when I wanted to do everything. I wanted to absorb his pain into my skin, to hold him against me and protect him from the world. I wanted to destroy everything that was hurting him but I couldn't, I could only use my voice, my words, to wrench him out of his current state of fear. Warner's hand brushes over my hip, a slow calming gesture. I realise that he can probably sense how I'm feeling.

"I know," he sounds flat, defeated. I almost expect the next noise from his lips to be a heavy sigh, but he continues speaking. "Not that it feels like it."

"What do you mean?" I ask quietly.

"It feels like even though he's dead he's still there," Warner begins to explain, with words that almost sound like acid. I take in a slow breath and listen, knowing that now would be the time he would confide in me, breaking down the concrete walls he'd been building around himself all his life to share this vulnerability with me. After a sigh and a long pause he continues. "Lurking in my memories, waiting in my dreams. This unrelenting force that refuses to disappear, forcing me to relive everything over and over. It feels like I'll never be free of him." He sounds hopeless. He shifts slightly and lets out another sigh, heavy with the weight of his thoughts. That one puff of air, falling hot against my chest swoops in and ruins my heart again, pulling at the weak thread with which I stitched it back together, ripping off the poorly administered band aids and letting the cracks burst, firing out like shrapnel in my chest.

"You will," I assure him, desperate not to hear him sound so disheartened. "I'll help. I'll do everything I can to help you. You don't deserve this." I let out a heavy sigh that I forgot I was holding, I hated seeing him like this. Feeling the arm draped over my stomach tighten around me, I looked down at Warner. He squeezes me tighter against him, pressing small kisses to my chest and collarbone before nuzzling his face into my neck.

"I certainly don't deserve you," He whispers, kissing my neck in the spot where his breath had just tickled my skin. Another slow sigh breaks through the barrier of my lips, I almost shush him, but instead I just lightly kiss his temple.

"Well I'm not going anywhere, I can promise you that," I assure him, turning my attention back to running my hands through his silky hair, which now hangs over his forehead and tickles my collarbone. I think of all of the nights where Warner has helped me through my nightmares, kissed me and held me against him while I cried. Reassured me when I've woken scratching at invisible blood and screaming over imaginary monsters. And now as I lay here with him wrapped around me as his breathing slows and the images fade, I find myself filling with concern, wondering whether I'm making him feel as safe as he makes me. He shifts, mumbling something I can't quite hear against my skin.

"You should try and go back to sleep," I suggest, causing Warner to open his eyes and shift even more so he can look at me.

"I'm not sure I can," _I'm not sure I want to_.

"I'll help. You just try and relax," I say, ushering him back down against me. Once the side of his face fell into place against my chest I returned to stroking his hair, using the other arm to run my hand gently up and down his back. Eventually his breathing begins to turn shallow and he rolls over onto his side of the bed, his bare back facing me. I roll after him, lining my body against the curve of his spine and wrapping my arm around his waist. He settles against me, lacing his fingers through mine as they rest on his stomach.

"I love you," He whispers, so quietly that I almost didn't hear it. I press my lips to his back, meeting raised scar tissue and puckered skin. I decide to place kisses against every scar of his I can reach, gently pouring my love into each one of them, hoping that one day the way he received them will become just a distant memory, and not one that still haunts his dreams. I drop one final kiss on the centre of the word inked into his skin before stopping, resting my head on the pillow.

"I love you too," I whisper, before closing my eyes and falling back into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
